


A Zaunite Machine

by Endernightz



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endernightz/pseuds/Endernightz
Summary: Zaun mirrored the city of progress in many ways. There were cobbled streets and long alleys and the technology. Explosive, innovative technology. It was not exactly what Blitzcrank was interested in, but the people that surrounded them were always enamoured with technology.
Kudos: 10





	1. Prelude To Zaun

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to try my hand at writing for a long time.  
> Now its time.  
> The first chapter is a prelude to Blitzcrank’s life in Zaun.

Zaun, the downtrodden sister of Piltover, was a city that never slept. Through the winding streets of Emberflit alley, there were children running up and down the pathways, rummaging through piles of old parts that were dumped just outside the Machine Herald’s gates. The atmosphere was stained a permanent foggy grey. Blitzcrank wondered if it had always been this way. 

They stood observing. 

Zaun mirrored the city of progress in many ways. There were cobbled streets and long alleys and the technology. Explosive, innovative technology. It was not exactly what Blitzcrank was interested in, but the people that surrounded them were always enamoured with technology.

The children of Zaun appeared malnourished and grimy but still, they managed to laugh and exclaim in a pleasant symphony whenever they found an interesting blueprint. Zaunites were innovative people and closely knit too. They had to be. Although Blitzcrank questioned the merit of factions in Zaun; factions that often laid waste to one another. 

Emberflit alley was a pleasant place in comparison to the very core of Zaun; a river of toxic waste. But even here Blitzcrank could follow the stray streams of green liquid that led to pools of chemical waste and corroded metal parts. Blitzcrank found themselves immune to the corrosion and in their spare time, they would fish the surviving spare parts from the rivers and leave them in piles for the Zaunites to discover. Here, they had a purpose. 

Blitzcrank could recall the time he was up in Piltover. The city of tomorrow. Stanwick had been very adamant about them sticking to one room. “So heavy” he would say. “High carbon emissions, terrible for the environment.” Terrible? The word seemed to pop out of the memory. But I was made to help, to help in a place named Zaun. 

For a time Blitzcrank had tried to slow its own heart beat. It's own breathing. Because simply existing as a set piece to show off to the shining city of Piltover, was not worth the damage they were inflicting by existing. But of course they could not stop the hex core within themselves. And of course, they could not slow the set rate of combustion that had been given to it by its creator. 

Creator. Blitzcrank had asked Stanwick to modify its body. Make it more environmentally friendly. Tailor it to Piltover and not Zaun. It made sense at the time; after all the functions they had been paraded through, it seemed as if Piltover would be home. But Stanwick had turned red and Blitzcrank quickly learnt that red was never a good sign. 

“Now, why would you want that?” He stammered out. 

Blitzcrank pondered for a time and then finally said, “I want to be of use, but my form does not complement my function. I feel as if I should be somewhere else.” 

“You feel.” Stanwick had uttered. Utterly amused. 

Blitzcrank suddenly felt small. It’s hands were too large to lift a delicate champagne glass. It’s exhaust pipes poisoned the air with each breath. Although Blitzcrank could not remember a time they belonged. They knew they did not belong here. Someone had programmed it to cognate their surroundings. Someone had taught it to speak. Someone had given it it’s hands and it’s eyes and its body. A body that did not belong in this city that bathed in sunshine and fame. 

It could’ve been Stanwick. But would a creator be so cruel as to make a being so incompatible with its own environment? 

Blitzcrank was a steam golem that never slept. They could never seem to remain still either, there was always a hissing or shifting or a bobbing up and down on it’s own two feet to the gears that ran within itself. 

One night, Blitzcrank grew tired of idleness. They found that idleness was a default state as weeks passed and functions came up less and less. “An evitable fall from fame.” Stanwick had sighed. 

Blitzcrank had been left in a metal room, with whirring vents that filtered out smoggy grey steam to replace it with cleaner air. They could stare at nothing but a dull green garage door. The thick metal weld shut kept “Hooligans” out. Blitzcrank did not know what ‘Hooligans’ were, when they had asked, Stanwick replied with “Troublemakers.” and then he patted Blitzcrank’s chassis, warm compared to the cool autumn air and promptly shut the garage door with a grinding slam.

Blitzcrank did not know how long it had been since it had last been let out. One million, seven-hundred thousand breaths. There was nothing here but energy, building up within its chassis. With nowhere to move, nowhere to run the power had built up to critical levels. And Blitzcrank could finally understand why it’s metal body could never keep still. 

The crash that resounded into the Piloverian night disturbed no-one. The city was asleep, their rest aided by little machines in their rooms that cancelled noises and played soft music in their ears. The streets were wide enough to roam and Blitzcrank ran. 

They ran through the warm cobbled streets of Piltover, every step a booming crash of rock against metal. They could not breathe any faster, not like a fleshling could but they could feel exhilaration all the same. The release of pure energy. They’d just rounded a corner, nearly slipping on the pavement when they experienced the crash. 

At first it was a slowing of gears and then a great hiss of steam. They could barely move, forced to shift slowly from foot to foot as if moonwalking. They felt a panic offset them. For the first time their breathing slowed, their rate of combustion faltered. Was this going to be the end. Were they going to fade away, shedding energy like a planetary nebula? 

Blitzcrank sighed in relief as their system returned to normal. The soft humming of their chassis glowed with power and they felt a pull downwards. Towards Zaun. 

Stanwick would not be pleased with their actions. He was never really pleased. Whilst others marvelled at Blitzcrank’s ability to respond and function, Stanwick only noted it and filed it away. 

When dawn rose and Piltover woke, there was hell to pay. Blitzcrank had shuffled back the way they came, the pavement scuffed and dented where they had stepped. Stanwick was standing by the shed door when Blitzcrank returned. Not quite red. Just perplexed in his nightdress. 

“Blitzcrank, what happened here? Did someone break in?” 

For the first time, Blitzcrank struggled to tell the simple truth. They could not stand still, idle like every other Piltoverian machine. They could not run silently and smoothly. They could not help the environment or help themselves; built so heavy and loud as they are. 

“I ran away.” Blitzcrank started. “I felt so much power within me. I’m sorry Stanwick, I could not control it.” Their hands twitched as if to grab at something. 

The frown settled around Stanwick’s face. Unlike last time, he did not mock Blitzcrank for feeling. Instead he rested a hand on Blitzcrank’s chassis, above where their hexcore heart would be. 

“I should send you to Zaun.” Stanwick had sighed. Zaun. It was a place that was always in the back of their mind. But in the moment, it sounded like a punishment. 

Because they could never be useful in Piltover, they must be casted down to Zaun where they will wallow in the pollution and waste. Somehow, even though they’d never been there, the data was in their mind. They could see chemical spills and a green lake that flooded the core of Zaun and snaked outwards and downwards acting as the city’s veins and blood. “It was where you were meant to be.” 

“Yes, I was made to help a place named Zaun.” Purpose. That was the crux of their existence. 

“You’ll never see the sunlight again. The air is thick with smog all the time. The people are cruel and hungry for power, but they’re geniuses. You’ll feel terribly used, forced to clean up their chemical spills. Zaun is a dangerous place, nothing like Piltover. And you’ll never be able to come back.” When Stanwick finished their spiel, he waited but Blitzcrank could not find a response. “Do you want to go to Zaun?” Stanwick prompted. 

Did the great steam golem really have a choice? They thought of Piltover. Above anything they’d miss the sky, so vast and bright, ever changing and organic. But they had no purpose in Piltover, they’d be forced back into idleness until the next time their core caused them to overload. Zaun. Was that place home? 

“I will go to Zaun.” Blitzcrank concluded. “It is the place I can help the most people.”

Stanwick nodded slowly and then gazed off into the distance. The stout man in his nightdress seemed to be considering something. Blitzcrank waited patiently, shifting on the spot. “Find someone down there. A man named Viktor. He can repair and maintain your body. But be warned, he is not in the best state of mind.” The man’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence. Blitzcrank couldn’t quite decipher the significance of such inflection. 

Blitzcrank gave an acknowledging whirr. Viktor. The name sounded familiar. Their earliest memory was of a greeting. 

“Good afternoon, Blitzcrank.” The voice was clear, it’s pronunciation careful, for Blitzcrank’s sake. 

“Afternoon.” It had replied, taught to echo the word at the start of every conversion between 12pm and 5pm, after those timeframes, it would be ‘Evening’ and before ‘Morning’. 

“How do you feel today?” There was the question. It was presented every afternoon but instead of triggering a prompt with one cue. A list of responses appeared. They could choose. 

“I am content.” 

Three days later, they were in Zaun. 

They stood in a wide elevator shaft, observing the last ray of light fade away to give way to darkness. They had felt that Zaun was beneath Piltover, but they had not known it’s true vastness. When they’d looked down they could see buildings, dozens of stories high, arching up from the ground way below. It was true, Zaun had a fog, always hanging over it. But the fog was tinted fluorescent green, like the river, not grey like Piltover’s rare mornings. 

The elevator man nodded to Blitzcrank and the machine, finally in their element, waved farewell.


	2. Finding a place

There was no direction in Zaun. From all the spray painted crosses scrawled in angry colours, Blitzcrank inferred there were no rules either. Although they had no direction, they wandered Zaun for a while, following a map of the underground city. 

It was by chance that they’d found their first chemical spill. There were no people around, just a thick green liquid that occasionally bubbled and hissed. Someone had programmed them to reach out, extend their arm further than they knew they could and grab the heaviest chunk of metal. The green liquid slid off easily, almost unwilling to contact Blitzcrank’s hand. There was no fanfare, no exclamations or celebration. Just a quiet moving of parts from the river to the shore. 

It was reassuring. To be doing what they had been made to do. 

It had been hours and Blitzcrank was still wading through the same pool, skimming the sludge for parts. They pulled up an old plastic bottle. Strange that such a thing could survive in this place. Through the plastic, they could spy a warped version of Zaun. 

Tinted so incredibly green, the buildings seemed to stretch towards them, at the brink of falling. Blitzcrank pointed up at the sky. An empty, ever looming sky. Their vision was overtaken by a blob of green sludge with a wicked yellow eye. 

Blitzcrank let out an alarmed beep and crushed the bottle in their hand. The creature seemed to stretch and meld, connected to the pool. It growled lowly. 

Waves of green slime rose and fell around the golem, but they remained on their feet. The creature had a mouth, jagged and monstrous. It opened it’s maw incredibly wide and grew incredibly large. Then Blitzcrank was swallowed in a cesspool of slime. 

The slime walls were translucent and for a moment it was a wonder to see through the tinted frames. But then the walls closed in. 

As slime gathered, thickened and thinned, it disoriented the world around them. Blitzcrank’s head swivelled frantically, unsure of this environment. The chemicals hadn’t damaged them during their time in the pool and they could not suffocate as fleshlings could. 

The walls had pressed in and instantly, as if burned, they jerked back and hissed. “Ow, hot.” The slime stretched, compressed and leapt three paces away, onto the shore, where it reformed into a small round blob, rolling in a pool of itself. 

The steam golem watched the amorphous goo, mesmerised by its constant movement. They moved closer to the puddle of slime. Wading as slowly as they could manage. 

“Hey, back off.” The slime creature growled. Blitzcrank stopped close enough to see two black scorch marks in the puddle of slime, the size of their exhaust pipes. 

“You are burnt.” Blitzcrank pointed out. Somewhere in their databases, there was a treatment for burns. But could running water and a salve help a slime creature? Maybe not, Blitzcrank amended. “You should seek medical assistance.” 

“Where?” The creature huffed. It’s jagged mouth stretched wide, but Blitzcrank couldn’t tell whether it was a smile or a threat. “A lab? They’d do me more harm than good.” Blitzcrank was made in a lab. 

The creature then rose up, making themselves just a head taller than Blitzcrank. “And what do you think you’re doing, stealing from the Sewer King?” 

Blitzcrank tilted its head and brought a hand to it's chin in thought. “You are called Sewer King?” The creature shrunk down at this, it’s form jiggled. Blitzcrank thought it must be laughter. 

“No! No. Twitch is the Sewer King so you best think twice about stealing from him!”

Blitzcrank squinted at the blob. They had never been accused of stealing before. “Apologies. I intended to clean this pool and salvage parts for the people of Zaun. I will return the items, at your insistence.” It would undo all the hours they’d spent in Zaun so far. But they were here to help and they had started cleaning at their own volition, perhaps they should’ve sited the place first then they would’ve known from the beginning that their help wasn’t appreciated here. 

The creature paused a moment, surprised. “Well then, I insist.”

“Okay.” Blitzcrank turned and started with pushing a large chunk of metal back into the pool. 

“Hm, you’re alright robot. Most bots like you don’t like to talk. They just keep fishing stuff out until they’re done, then they get packed up and moved to the next place.” The slime creature hopped up and expanded itself. The scorch marks weren’t there anymore, but little dark flecks of burnt slime were still floating inside the creature. It swallowed up a pile of panels and spat it back into the pool. “Wonder if you can convince your friends to leave a few chemical pools alone. Twitch has been mad about them lately.” 

“I’ve just arrived in Zaun, I don’t have friends here.” Blitzcrank didn’t quite have friends anywhere. The people in Piltover constantly came and went, none of them conversing with Blitzcrank for very long. Their early development held lots of long conversations but Blitzcrank didn’t think a conversation was any indication of friendship. Some conversations were upsetting, some were stressful, as Stanwick would say. 

“Oh,” the slime blob melded its arms together and shifted around for a while before continuing. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll make friends soon. Do you have a place to stay?” 

Stay? Blitzcrank hadn’t considered it. There was always a shed or a room for them in Piltover but the golem never needed rest, there was no reason to stay still now. Not when they’d been staying still for the past year of their life. 

“I don’t need to sleep.” Blitzcrank explained, “I don’t need a place to stay. I aim to help in Zaun and clean up the right chemical spills.” With that amendment they continued to gently push large pieces of scaffolding back into the pool. 

“But the Chem Barons come out at night, how will you protect yourself from them?” They’d heard of Chem Barons. Piltover had its own score of petty thieves and rebellious graffiti artists, but Zaun was filled with dangerous criminals. 

No-one had ever tried to harm Blitzcrank before. They were a machine to be admired, studied, spoken to and tested, but never broken. Because no-one could seem to recreate a machine like Blitzcrank. There was a tinge of loneliness and a tinge of pride that coursed through Blitzcrank.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can be broken.” They had been created for Zaun. Conditioned for it. They could see the acidity value of the chemical pool, they could sense the temperature; warm for a human, cold for a steam golem. They had been through tests. The strongest acids and bases hadn’t been able to wear down their metal exterior. The most violent explosions had barely left a dent. But the slime creature was skeptical. 

“I don’t know about that. I’m fairly flexible myself but there are limits.” The slime creature frowned. “They might not physically break you, but they might try to convince you to help them hurt people. They’re evil. You don’t want to be a villain, do you? You seem more like the hero type, like me.” 

Blitzcrank pushed the last of the old wooden planks back into the spill. They could admit, the idea was intriguing. Hero. “I would rather be a hero, I want to help people, never hurt them.” 

“Yes, like Jayce The Defender of Tomorrow.” Blitzcrank had heard of him, he was the golden child of Piltover and everyone seemed to have good things to say about him. Intelligent young lad, brave and selfless, innovative and forward. Blitzcrank remembers him from before his glory days. It was only for a brief moment, between them gaining sentience and being whisked off to fame and fall. But that boy had seemed so ordinary. 

His heart beat irregularly, he was all smiles and confidence, just another face in the posh Piltoverian crowd. Blitzcrank could remember his ecstatic cheer when Blitzcrank first successfully walked.

“You can stay in the sewage corridors if you act as a bodyguard for the Sewer King. Trading service for shelter. That doesn’t sound bad eh?” Blitzcrank was quiet for a while. They were not created to be a bodyguard. They did not know how to determine whether or not something was a threat. The overworld of Piltover’s underworld was known. But beneath Zaun, in the sewers, Blitzcrank was blind. Who could map a place like that? The deepest underbelly of Zaun was a place that was constantly punctured and caved in, day by day, unstable. 

“Let go robot, I have to report you to the Sewer King but I’m sure he’ll forgive you as you’re being so cooperative.” 

“My name is Blitzcrank.” The steam golem uttered, making the slime blob pause for a moment. 

“You can call me Zac, lowercase ‘a’ and ‘c’.” The blob shrunk down into a miniature version of itself and sunk into a crack in the ground. “Follow my trail, I’ll lead you to a larger entrance.”


End file.
